


How Does It...

by aam5ever



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Third Person, Post-Episode: Selfishness v. Selflessness, as if that is a surprise to anybody thats ever existed, in which Janus is sufferable and Remus is not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23988580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aam5ever/pseuds/aam5ever
Summary: Logan and Roman are lost.Logan thought he could be more useful than he's been feeling he is. The candles of his usefulness seem to flicker and wobble, teetering close to burning him alive and reducing him to ash. Being heard is one of the most important things to him, and if that's be ignored, than who is he at that point? If only somebody out there understood...Roman thought he could be a hero. He thought his purpose would be cut clear and dry, and that nothing would get in the way of it. Unfortunately, that couldn't be the case as of late, and he's found himself estranged and unsure of where to go, unsure of how to process some of the feelings that have been plaguing him. If only somebody out there understood...
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders & Deceit Sanders
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	1. How Does It Burn?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone reading! This is a two part fic, both posted (hopefully) at once. I really love SS and I hope this little contribution is read and appreciated <3 Happy reading!

“How does it feel, to be listened to?”

Janus looks up at Logan with a small quirk of his eyebrow. He had just been in the middle of writing up something when the question floated out from the space in front of him, and...  _ Well, this is a surprise. _

The man stood there, looking exhausted in a way Janus could never begin to describe fully. His hair was... tussled, unkempt. His body hung forward like his spine couldn’t straighten itself, and he blinked long and slow, like it took all of him to do so. His tie was tight around his neck too much close to a noose ready to hang the man for his faults and mistakes. Janus wondered at a point if that was the only thing keeping Logan together right now. It’s hard to imagine anything else could have been helping. 

He hadn’t even heard Logan come into his small study; the space was littered with books from lawyering practices and philosophies on law and society to communication “tips and tricks” on how to make oneself more presentable, more trustworthy. The shelves were slanted at odd angles that somehow seemed to work in keeping the books in place, a secret to the art of it only being with Janus. There was a particular way about how his desk was lower to the ground, how his heat lamp was positioned specifically how it was, and how his chair rocked too far to the left but not enough to the right, that somehow created this perfect imperfection to it all. It smelled like wood polish and the sting of old, dark liquor. It felt too balanced.    
  
The question wasn’t lost to Janus in his observation of Logan, but he did take a bit of time to form a response. His pen continues to write, pretending to be uninterested with Logan’s sudden appearance. “Funny, usually I have to impersonate  _ you  _ to get anywhere.”   
  
Any humor in that statement fell flat to the logical party of the room, who was feeling... less than logical about coming here in the first place with each passing second. He leans in to the desk, hand resting on the smooth, slick wood with fingers curling into an impatient fist. “You were Patton first.” There was a bite in his words, sharp, but not as sharp as Janus’ tongue.   
  
Even though he could fire back smartly, he wanted to hear out whatever Logan was saying. Curiosity was an addictive thing. 

So instead of being any form of an asshole, the side settles his pen to cross his legs and look up at Logan with a smirk. It curls up the scaly part of his face into a cruel expression. “I quickly realized my mistake. I think you and I are easier confused than I and Patton. I took some... notes, from my previous endeavours.” He tilts his head playfully. Logan’s face twitches in distaste. “I thought you would appreciate me being so... studious about your character.”   
  
“And yet they listen to you, and not to me.” Logan’s impatience was leaking through, so he pulls back a bit, his hand sliding a bit away from Janus. Standing at full height would be... generous as a descriptor for him currently, but it was all he could muster with this new type of exhaustion. “So how does it feel?” Feeling this way, this acute desperation, was embarrassing and exhausting to put himself through, but...   
  
“Why do you have to know?”   
  
The dreaded question came right on time. Logan swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say. Those yellow eyes were peering into his blue ones, worming their way in, trying to pull the truth from behind the guarded walls of Logan’s personal fortress. Dropping the drawbridge would stop the assault quickly, but... it would let somebody in.    
  
Did he want to let somebody in?   
  
Neither of them know how long that they stare at each other. Those seconds, minutes, or hours are lost to time, and neither of them were about to check their watches. Eventually, one of them says something.   
  
“Well if you have no-”   
  
And then Logan interrupts with an answer.    
  
“What use is logic and reason if it isn’t listened to?”   
  
It’s said in a way Janus can’t answer. He does look up at Logan and wait for further explanation, which he gives. He can’t help but feel some of the frustrations in Logan’s voice as he does.    
  
“The burning of the Library of Alexandria. It is mourned because it isn’t here anymore, can’t be used, but when it was there... Did people really value it? Wealths of information useful for the future, but that’s just it. It was useful, it was valued, in the  _ future.  _ All of that knowledge was burned before it could be used in any future setting, could be thought of as a  _ resource  _ with large amounts of power, but it was regarded as the greatest tragedy and loss only afterwards. It was only... cared about when it left.”   
  
Janus was trying his best to follow, but sometimes Logan spoke in ways that only made sense to him. It did make sense, but the underlying question was there, unanswered.    
  
“So why... Do you have to know what it feels like to be listened to?”   
  
“Because my purpose is being disregarded, and I’m burning.”    
  
Logan watches quite the expression cross Janus’ face. It isn’t anything he’s seen on him before.    
  
“What?”   
  
“Nevermind. This is ridiculous.”   
  
“No, wait-”   
  
The chair hits the wall and the desk lurches forward as Janus gets up quickly and leans over it, now clutching Logan’s wrist. The balance of the room has shifted. Logan had been turning away, making the executive decision to forget about explaining himself. He had the resolute thought that being heard, listened to, and understood may just be completely lost now to everyone, but now... Janus didn’t want him to go. He wasn’t skipping his dialogue, tuning him out, or making him optional... he wanted to hear him.    
  
Logan feels some strength return to him as he stares now at Janus’ more pleading expression. It softens them both, and soon Janus drops his hand from Logan’s wrist once he was sure Logan didn’t look like he was going to run away again.    
  
“I... don’t care, Logan. About any of this. So please, if you’re going to speak, I don’t want to hear any of it.”

The sentences were disjointed and choked out of Janus. It was obviously not what he wanted to say, however... That  _ damned  _ defense mechanism. It was rearing its ugly head at the wrong time, but Logan heard the real message underneath.    
  
_ “I... care, Logan. About all of this. So please, if you’re going to speak, let me listen to you.”  _   
  
“...right. Well. Um.” His own words were failing him, too, but Janus was patient. He was... patient. Most likely because he’s suffered by the impatience of others, as Logan has. Logan told himself this without knowing it to be so true, and Janus thought of Logan in the same way.    
  
“I’ve... I’m trying to say that knowing how it feels to be listened to, helps me. It helps me remember what I am doing this for. What I even... speak for.” He pushes his sliding glasses up once more to achieve some sort of normalcy from this intense situation, to this spilling of the heart. “I’ve only fully left the others to their own devices once, and... the worst part was how little I needed to say for them to resolve their issues. How... peaceful it was, to be away. How simple it was to burn in the background, my pages of information going on unused...” He then laughs a bit bitterly, shaking his head. “How unprofessional of me, speaking so candidly about this with-” 

A sudden pause. Both of them knew what was coming next, but Logan has been, somehow, more careful with his words than Roman and Patton combined. He manages to stop himself and correct it before they both lose whatever progress they’re making here. “...with a new ally, of sorts.”    
  
Another curled grin, this time with a sharp tooth to show. “Of sorts.”    
  
Neither of them know what to do or say now. The drawbridge is down, and Janus is inside of the fortress. To help or to harm, neither of them are acutely aware.   
  
And then Janus begins to reach out his hand. “If you want to know how it feels to be listened to...” It settles on Logan’s shoulder. “Then I will share it with you.”   
  
For a moment there’s nothing, and Logan is confused and slightly uncomfortable with the hand on him. He values his personal space, but all of that goes out of the window when a rush of warmth floods into him. A small parting of his mouth. A gasp that takes in the breath that’s been knocked out of him. It’s all slow at first, and then it leaks through his veins, from that source on his shoulder to his aching, yearning chest and to the mind that needs to be fed, needs to be  _ acknowledged  _ to exist and soon every part of his appendages are electrified, burning and felt and understood and... and...    
  
“Logan... you’re crying.”   
  
He knows this, but he can’t stop it. A hand comes up to touch his face, and for a second he thinks it's his own until he feels the texture of the yellow glove swiping a tear away. Helplessness isn’t good, helplessness isn’t  _ Logan,  _ but... these tears are putting the fire out, and he isn’t breathing in just smoke and fumes anymore.    
  
“Thank you.”   
  
“I... don’t understand.” Janus seems more concerned than anything. For a moment, he’d thought he’d done the wrong thing and blown his whole new chapter to smithereens. Logan takes in another deep, shuddering breath before saying it again.    
  
“Thank you... for listening to me.” 

And it all feels balanced once again. 


	2. How Does It Ache?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be the second part! I'm considering a third... either way, hopefully you enjoy! Feel free to leave comments!

“How does it feel to be evil?”   
  
Roman is standing at the threshold of Remus’ door. He was afraid to knock, but once his hand had just raised to the tentacled knocker, the door swung open to reveal a surprised Remus --a surprised brother, in the matters of truth-- at the sight of him. It must’ve not helped that he looked like Hell with a wig on; his clothes were sagging off of him, and he couldn’t be bothered to even cover up the fact that hours of crying came before this visit. His face was drained and frown was tugging every other feature about him down with it. Certainly not becoming of a prince.    
  
Even more shocking than the visit and appearance combined was the question. It was sudden, sputtered out like he had been thinking about it over and over with every step he took to get here. If Remus had any sort of malicious expression, it was gone completely, replaced with concern and suspicion.    
  
“...who are you and what have you done with Sir PBS Kids?”   
  
He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Remus...”   
  
Remus cuts him off. “Do you expect me to have an answer for that question on the fly? It comes with the price of a proper visit! I know I’m devilish with my wit and smarts but come on now, Roman, do be reasonable!” With that, he moves to the side and gestures for Roman to enter. “Come now don’t keep me waiting. You know how impatient I can be.”   
  
There seemed to be no other option. He was too lost to even fight it. “...right.” With that, he enters the dark, cold den of the beast he knows as his twin.

His brother’s room is just as imagined: messy beyond belief. There was the upsetting stinky, sour scent of something rotten or dead hanging in the air. All sorts of questionable things were strewn about along with clothes, broken runner up trophies and notebooks full of images too violent, hateful or inappropriate for Roman to feel good at all about focusing on too long. Where there should’ve been a bed was just a mass of blankets, pillows, and some occasional semblances of a threadbare mattress, springs sticking out at odd angles. 

The only “normal” thing was the two chairs and table that just appeared, one of the chairs being embellished with velvet cushioning and the golden carved and woven wood that knotted into a lion’s head just at the top of it. He assumed that one was his until Remus went over and sat in it, putting his feet up on the table. The other chair was gnarled, rotten wood, all sorts of knives, buckles, and slimy parts that almost seemed to breathe and move holding it together. It looked fragile and corrupted, begging to break at any moment.  _ Is this some sort of joke?  _ Looking at it made his skin crawl, even more so when Remus gestured to it merrily.    
  
“Take a seat! Want a drink? I’m fresh outta some of the good stuff, but I’m sure we can find something to your taste.” He leans back in the chair, teetering it as Roman musters up the courage to sit. The grotesque thing sinks with his weight in it, and he shudders while trying to remain serious with his brother.    
  
Roman shakes his head at the offer, and Remus only shrugs and summons a mug of something closer to moonshine than milk. “Alright, then. Down to business! What kind of business, I wonder? You better have something good for me, I’m a very busy man, with Thomas’ dreams to torture and warp and whatnot.” At Roman’s face in response to that, he cackles and slams the mug down. It sloshes the liquid and spills it on the table. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”, he says, only to add, “Unless I’m not~”   
  
At this point, Roman was regretting coming considerably. “Enough! Of this.” His exclamation makes Remus perk up in interest “I just came here for one answer, and then I’m gone.”   
  
His twin leans in, twirling his mustache and taking another unhealthy swig. “Go on...” It’s teasing, stupidly enough. Roman feels like they’re children again, striking some deal that has no consequences. He almost yearns for that to be the case; everything nowadays is just big moral decision after big moral decision. 

“You’re... you’re not good. As a person. And you’re proud of that.” It’s a rocky start, but it only seems to bring a fond smile to Remus' face. When he isn’t interrupted, he continues hesitantly. “I... just. I want to know how you can even  _ live  _ like this, how you... how it feels to...”    
  
“Be evil, as you said?”   
  
The nonchalant finishing of the question startles Roman slightly, but he nods. “Yes, I suppose.”   
  
Some cartoonish tapping of the chin happens before Remus says anything more. “What  _ I  _ want to know is what calls for such a peculiar little question?” Roman was expecting that, but it didn’t make it any more difficult to form an answer to. There was an answer, but he was ashamed to speak of it, to talk about what happened...   
  
“Now Roman,” His “R” is rolled in the way Remus says his name, and he just growls to himself. “...you must have  _ some  _ sort of answer. What brings you here, to my domain? What is so pressing that could have you even need an answer from me, an  _ audience  _ with me?” The word “audience” doesn’t sit too well with him. It’s arrogant and selfish. It sounds too much like something Roman would’ve said in the past, or maybe when they weren’t separated.

A pregnant pause follows. Roman stares ahead with a hard gaze while Remus drinks and slides his eyes over patiently. Finally, the prince shifts in the chair, but it only makes him sink further into it. Struggling to get up and leave would be so much effort, and he was disoriented and here for a reason. Stalling further would get him nowhere.

“I... something happened. Between De... Janus, and I.”   
  
That seems to delight Remus. “Oh?”   
  
“I said something... unbecoming. And so did he. And then... they just... they...” He feels tears welling up in his eyes, and he shakes his head, willing them away and taking a quick breath to level his voice. “They took his side, in the end. So I’m here. Asking you a question about evil because... because...” He didn’t have a reason, after all this time. Was it because it felt right? Was it because he just didn’t know who else to turn to? Virgil hasn’t been around at all, and now Patton and Janus seem to be seeing eye to eye in ways he can’t understand. Thomas had looked at him like... like he barely knew what to think of him anymore.   
  
_ Am I evil? _

Perhaps that was the question he wanted to ask of his brother, but that would be too much. That would be too direct to say, and too... painful, if he got the answer he wasn’t hoping for.   
  
In all of this introspection and confusion, Remus seemed to grow bored. He stands up suddenly, and gestures for Roman to stand as well with a soft “get up, get up”. With some effort, Roman pushes himself out of that sinking chair and to his feet, bracing himself on the table.    
  
“What?” He asks, but Remus just waves it away, taking a step closer. 

“If you really are so pressed to know how it feels...” Remus reaches his hand up to Roman’s forehead. Fear is in Roman’s eyes, but he isn’t backing up or turning away. “...then who am I to deny you your simple pleasures, brother?”    
  
When the hand is pressed to his head, the effect is immediate. The palm stretches out this all encompassing darkness that crawls forward into his mind and settles. It makes him so very cold, like ice is sliding over every single bone, through all the pores of his body. He cries out, because it’s so lonely that it  _ hurts,  _ and he staggers where he stands, almost pitching too far to the left. Remus grabs a firm hold of his arm so he doesn’t fall, but doesn’t stop. Red, hot fire begins to bubble now in Roman’s chest, molten lava of emotions and rage. It threatens to spill from his mouth like bile, and instead it makes his face flushed hot with anger and disrespect, misunderstanding and frustration.    
  
It’s so much, it’s so deep and cutting and blinding, it’s...   
  
Awful, that Roman has already felt this before.    
  
Remus watches Roman’s face sink into this solemn familiarity as he controls it. The pains roll in like waves, the hate under his tongue and never reaching his full conscience.  _ So that’s what this has been...  _ Fire burns him from the inside out and ice chills him until his fingers feel numb and frostbitten. He wants to take it out on every thing that moves and breathes, and... that possibility for such destruction had been living inside of him, that  _ evil  _ had been tucked just behind his eyelids and stuffed down past his ribcage this entire time.    
  
Remus’ eyes widen and he lets go of his brother, pulling his hand back and leaving Roman sputtering and gasping for air under all of that pressure. He laughs while Roman can barely stand, holding himself upright against the table. All of that clarity over everything left him, but there is this nausea that takes its place as Roman begins to realize what just happened like Remus currently is.   
  
“You sly son of a cock-eyed gun!”   
  
“Wh-what-?”   
  
“Haha!” Remus is elated in the sickest way. “You didn’t  _ need  _ to know what it feels like at all, did you? No no no, of course not!” He leans in dangerously close, satisfaction in his too-wide grin. “You just needed to  _ confirm  _ it was what you’ve been feeling all this time.” 

Roman pushes him away, but it’s too late. That awful truth was closing its jaws around him and he holds his now aching head, feeling those sensations begin to start up within him again. “N-No, that, c-can’t-”   
  
Remus wasn’t caring to explain anything further to him. He was too caught up in his happiness over such a cruel fact, singing a song that was making it hard to focus.  _ “Roman’s the King of Evil, Roman’s the King of Evil~” _ _   
_ _   
_ “You not, listening to me, no his can’t be-”   
  
“But I am, oh yes I am! All I’m listening to is the truth, the truth now that you can’t deny-”   
  
“Shut up!” Roman’s fist pounds the table and he yells at him frantically, “You don’t understand, you never will! You don’t listen to me! Nobody does!  _ Nobody  _ was  _ listening  _ to me when everything happened! I  _ hate  _ it! I hate it, and I hate  _ them _ , for never-”    
  
The words solidified something in him that he couldn’t take back. Hate. He used the word hate. Another new giggling cackle was coming from Remus, who now slung his arm around his distraught brother’s shoulder with whooping laughter. Roman’s hands clamped over his mouth, the tears welling up in his eyes. 

_ I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that. Why can’t I say what I mean correctly? Why can’t I... _

A sudden shake from Remus pulls him out of his spiral for a second to look at him. He saw himself reflected in those green eyes and wanted to scream, but there was nobody he could turn to that would ever dare help him if they’d heard what he just said in a stupid, unthinking rage. Nobody... except Remus.    
  
“Now, don’t look so down in the dumps!” It’s said with a tone of no remorse. Roman knew there was no coming back from this as Remus told him,    
  
“Now that you know how it feels brother, I can teach you what you can  _ do  _ with it.” 

  
And there was no other choice Roman could make.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: aam5ever  
> Twitter: @aam5ever

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: aam5ever  
> Twitter: @aam5ever


End file.
